"inadequacies" poems
Perplexed people of a politically polluted land,
Are uncertain of who they truly are.
Sons supporting freedom's fight, fathers seem lost,
Seeking meager gains with no gain in power.
Subjugation and forced order is in play,
Forgotten the episodes of cold blooded ******
Rapes, intimidation and tormented nights,
All ignored, for they are not
our daughters or mothers.
No concern given to our neighbors strife?
Our humanity we sold, for positions in this land.
Strengthened the corrupted power at play,
Full of anarchy and devoid of mercy.
The foibles in name of government and development,
Oh Lord!Fill our fellows hearts
with compassion.
Open their eyes to the inadequacies,
Bring our nation back to consciousness.
©Perveiz Ali
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
There's a difference between looking and
seeing.
You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.
Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.
I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.
My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.
When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.
When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.
I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.
But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.*
When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.
I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Don't deflect my insecurities
Acknowledge them for they are real
Don't brush aside my inadequacies
I can't help the way I feel
Hugging myself close, searching for reassurance
Through tear-stained glass I grief strickenly see
Seemingly I've lost my tight-rope balance
Clambering up ever so desperately
May think I'm wilful
Because I often get consumed
Don't judge me unstable
Just dormant emotions exhumed
Place a palm against my chest
Between sobs, my heart beats strong
Laying my turbid mind to rest
As I whisper me the comfort that I long
Don't be afraid of me
I know I tend to get lost
Alone in my storm swept dinghy
Susceptible to the chills of frost
I can't control, I get carried away
With the dream I'm set to pursue
I can't curb or hold myself at bay
I'm weak because I haven't got a clue...
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole
He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness
He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off
He's this and that and that and this
projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him
Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you
He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there
who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions .
He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real
how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are
and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are
Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure
so many of you are.
He laughing because you just act without fully thinking
You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded
You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic
He's laughing because most believe anything they are told
Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick
Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy
Just simple minded followers.
He laughing because he's attained all he wanted
Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality
sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty
A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave
A MODERN DAY SPARTAN.
He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away
He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is
He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical
assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance
He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority
exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how
damaged and vindictive you are
He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown
magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres
Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand
with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity.
And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah
a big package
and a hell of "tener cojones"
hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
[email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
Small talk is much more of the former than the latter,
small, definitely,
but I've rarely, ever, talked.
My favourite?
"How Are You?"
As if the true gauge of such a complex question
can be summed up in a random stop and chat.
My response?
"not bad",
or something similar no doubt,
but sometimes,
I feel like being honest...
honestly...
i feel like boo radley in a town full of atticus,
feel like i deserve no more than the back of the bus,
feel like every single word that i say,
is another cliche, just another cliche,
feel completely silent, scream with no effect,
hope to find a true meaning, it still hasn't happened yet,
feel divided, from this joke we partake in,
where every single victory, is simply, a fake win,
why is nostalgia the only feeling that's appealing?
back when inadequacies weren't worth concealing,
that's all i cherish, that's all i want now,
and instead i'm standing here, and you're wondering how...
am i?
“...How Are You?!”
when fate's gentle whisper turns into a scream,
and crashing down come all of your dreams,
a roaring tide from what once was a stream,
tell me, is everything as lost as it seems?
"when one door closes, another one opens!",
that's nonsense,
i'm staring at a one-sided peephole, hoping,
that the people that said they would help,
and forgot,
truly feel how the hell i've felt.
...that's how i am.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 10:14 AM UTC
Head shots like mug shot
selfies
Professing to the world their
desires to be seen like
gay barbie dolls
Green dots, I reply:
A collection of blue highlighted
selfies
of empty responses,
validating my
inadequacy
When I decided to accept
that I was gay and
cause a queer whirlwind into
the calm atmosphere that is my
family
I expected life to become easier
But as I venture into the world of
green dots and barbie selfies
I am reminded that
Gay
is not what stirred up
my hurricane of
Confusion
Insecurities
Inadequacies
It's all just me.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Windows to the the world through which I see
Images of shortfalls and views of perpetual inadequacies.
Shut my lids ever hoping for a change in scenery...
But only pictures of emotional chaos, mistakes and uncertainties.
Visions I can't ignore and they can't be severed;
Like a splinter that's embedded but can't be retrieved.
Reluctant at first I wish to have them captured...
Capturing all the disorder, but have the beauty all sieved.
Beauty and light engulfed by this visual turmoil
From windows to canvas, I paint but with a sombre brush.
Vicious strokes represent the feelings that roil;
Devoid of pardon; sing of pressures that crush.
This brush that I use; I've taught it all too well.
It could paint even when running on the subconscious.
It never does relent, nor never will it ever quell,
It'll keep on painting the dark side of the senses.
My canvas just lays receiving the brunt of the strokes.
It lays there quiet; accepts it all without struggle.
Like fuel to a bonfire, it provides and also it stokes;
It lays there ready to accommodate the dust and rubble.
Again the brush finishes with its last deft touches.
Producing the same painting it's painted over and over...
They will never depict meadows with the farthest of reaches
But a portrait of me; staring mournfully into forever...
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
The last time I saw you
We were trying to blend orange into green
In a huge painting for a fund raising auction.
Surprisingly, I see you again in yet another colorful adventure,
In a dark room with bright blinking lights where
We gave 80's dance moves to pop rock songs.
Then we plunged into the night and let
Our laughter and high pitched voices pierce the chilly air.
We balanced our books as we hurriedly jaywalked
Through the 10 pm traffic jam.
Though the ads in the mall were right at our faces,
You pulled me to a big blue aquarium
To marvel at the goldfish and guppies
Staring at our shiny eyes the same way.
We tried to understand the math
On how our corals cost 3 times more than the States
Even if we have 20 times more species than them.
We couldn't, but we swore to each other we'd stop it.
And as we shared a glass
Of too much ice and no more tea
We fought back passion filled tears
When we told each other story after story
Of our government's inadequacies.
We argued, but finally agreed that
It's not over population, it's urban planning;
It's not poverty, it's inequality;
They're not imbeciles, just ignorant;
And our nation maybe unfortunate,
But our trust is not in fortune, but in grace.
Then as we bid each other goodbye,
Unsure of when will we even meet again,
I prayed to God that
If our school chaplain becomes the president
I'd like him to appoint you and me as the
environment and finance secretaries.
I thanked Him too because
Now for the first time in my life,
I'm not ashamed, I'm not embarrassed but
I'm happy
To be a geek
Because you are with me.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
Oh' if I could speak the language of his atraction
With a generosity of exchange in bounteous metaphors
Yes and let him be the quality of my oppression
For there is a torture about my words when put to voice
They search for plausible reasons as is such cannot be found
And yet I have a trouble governing my generous impulses
Oh' the inaudible corruption that is my mind, hoping, wishing
Begging for a prosperity of possibilities that will vanquish tears
That I with moral perspectives should bind a mutuality between us
Invalidating my inadequacies thus find a resolution not in artiface
But in a charmed and beautiful way that shall be the essence of love
Without a prodigality of thought, but each for each, in solemnity of kiss
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
“Don't you miss being in love?”, she asks.
I simmer, gathering myself and my thoughts.
No, I don't, because I have not been in love;
Not in the manner I imagine it.
I have loved - beautifully, might I add -
But never have I been in love.
How can I have?
At my best, all I knew was to compel, persuasively,
someone into loving me -
the best possible way I knew how.
I revealed just enough of myself,
the beautiful of myself,
the parts of me that drew butterflies.
Hidden were the broken parts of me,
those which keep me awake, sleepless -
'til the moon kisses me goodnight,
in the last hours before dawn.
I am not, by any means, denying ever loving.
I have loved, blindly and beautifully.
All I have ever been good at was loving -
loving someone into loving me,
the best way possible.
But, all of their love was inadequate.
A love which always fell short of loving me,
the best way possible.
Love; inadequate:
Unable to express loving me,
unable to express themselves of loving me.
In turn,
I was slapped with sloppy efforts of loving me -
Vague inadequacies of love.
It was never enough, not remotely close,
to what I had imaged loving me would be.
It was short of ever arousing me internally,
short of wits to spiral me into being in love.
And so, how can I miss being in love,
when it has always been a feeling that eluded me?
How can I miss being in love, when in love -
I concealed the broken parts of me?
How can I have been in love when I was lonely, in love?
*How can I have been in love,
when all I knew of being in love was to love myself -
by loving whomever loved the aesthetic parts of me?*
Loving me has always been an infatuation -
an infatuation of the broken pieces of me,
coming together to create an illusion of a love -
an unsatisfactory love for loving me.
How can I have ever been in love when no one has known,
expressed, conjured the best possible way of loving me.
All of me.
Once more, up at the last hours before dawn -
awaiting the moon to kiss me goodnight, I tell her.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 8:00 PM UTC
Yes, I have tried,
Sir Butterflies
O Butter Smooth and Red Samurai
I have tried to be carefree
like you both
like your eminent selves
flitting from one plant to another
not attached or fond of one
but coming and going as in necessity
I have tried
Sir Butter Smooth and Red Samurai
to be free of time
like you both
like your eminent selves
careless of the past
or what is to come
but still my mind wanders
into the inadequacies of the past
and the promises of the future
so that
O Sir Butterflies
Butter Smooth and Red Samurai
I am weighed down by attachment
and am pained by time
unlike you happy butterflies
merry and free
your life always in the moment…
Perhaps
Sir Butterflies
O Butter Smooth and Red Samurai
you should teach me…
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 10:15 PM UTC
She spilled lengthy prose,
believing words would
bandage her inadequacies.
Enrapt,
I tussled
loose threads
of her rhetoric
in a feeble attempt at intimacy–
not realizing
Andromeda would love anyone
who had pried her free from the rock.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
The epiphanies of my failures
and the reaper of reputations
strip me to the bone
strip me to the bone, and leave me bare to dry
licked repeatedly by the incinerating
UV rays of humanity.
Care not for me.
Care not.
Hold me never.
Laugh, laugh and walk away.
Left to my own, my ingenuity.
I build myself, I create myself.
I unbrainwash myself!
Years of reconstruction.
I succeed to emerge a greatness.
An inner entity of amazement.
No one understands.
Failure? I wonder..
Pain always lingering in the depths.
Inadequacies, ********
I push past, deal with, and battle face to face.
To leave dismembered on the floor.
Step on it, stomp it deep.
plunge it down to surface again in light.
ME
hold me, love me if your able.
Never take for granted,
my soul, not of this life.
This place, these people, this society.
I am light.
Capable of so many inconceivable things.
I am light
I need only when I let myself need.
I need you, only if to see me.
The true me,
The me no one can possibly see.
I cry, I love, I feel, I am awakened!
© Crystal Erickson 11/24/07
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Swimming alone in my ocean...
In search of courage
drenched and drowned
in cowardice.
I have ample foothold,
for now...
Taunting the winds
that whistled treacherously
on this precipice.
Ears to the air
I hear the faint calling
of a lone zephyr
in the traveling winds
of tomorrow.
A smile emerges.
Forgetting the uncertainties,
the shame
and the unforgiving sorrow...
Bewitched and determined
to catch this breeze
that briefly promised salvation.
Brushed away the tears,
emotional inadequacies
and lifelong trepidation.
My lips parted...
Inhaling deep
what once,
for a long time felt acrid.
Eyes closed.
I greeted the whispers
that spoke of the end.
I've wished to be amongst
the choral voices
that sang
not of strangers
but friends.
The time is now.
I've conveniently forgotten
what and who I am...
Knowing only where I want to be.
I've found courage.
I took one step
into the future.
And finally...
I'm free.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
The familiar complaints, the cozy ones.
Ambling through the hedges of grievance.
I never know what I'm feeling at any one time.
Usually more of the same. Bragging my inadequacies.
Winter is coughed from the addled coalsmoke sky.
Chimneys chugging ash. Clumps of duress.
Blake's choir of children lying in a heap.
Noontime streetlamps regaled in holly and poinsettia.
A ***** moss enters from the vacant lot, cautiously.
The homeless have been scraped from under the bridge.
Geese call and flee. The snow is flakes of ash,
the sun finally burnt itself down.
Disused meanings are flushed. A carefully wrought
vocabulary we have disabused ourselves of.
Crumbling monologue.
A new grammar forms. Light and Motion dances
from the screen. A panoptican of laughs and serenades.
Sometimes there is a magazine no one has a
subscription to. It is the digest of a human heart
dressed to the nines in thorns and flame.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
So you sate your inadequacies
With excuses and those poems
And you pretend that tomorrow you will be better
But you are unstirring from your heart
And the stagnant puddle you call your life
It is your air, what once was bitter
Complacence takes hold and you watch
That view from the window forever the same
Sunsets and seasons blurring in the horizon
One more hour, another sleepless night
An unfinished day and muted uneasiness
Is this apathy the only thing you rely on?
“Life drains my enthusiasm away bit by bit”
You complain, and to refuse reality
You firmly repeat it like a charm
But you know, one heartbeat away
One step further from where you fell last
Will crash into your illusion of calm
Numb your conscience with art
Devour everyone else’s talent
And take nothing but tears from their story
Leave truths to dent your steel façade
Yet bury yourself in denial
Safe, shielded, in your delusional glory
Bleeding heart, battering in its cage
Its screams drowned under ****** veins
It’s scary silent, your shell
You’ve locked down hard
Your defences caked with dreamland dirt
Too sturdy for reality to fell
Search like a madman for something
To ease the voice of discomfort
Try to bind it to a letter
And so you sate your inadequacies
With excuses and this poem
And swear that tomorrow you will be better.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC
A morning philosophical conversation
approached the hard euthanasia question..
A saddened room as several with tears
recounted their special tragedies..
their own close life endings..
Other reflections revolved around
considerations of laws and rights..
troubled preferences for dark
decisions made now...
An afternoon wildfire with exploding fury
a sudden jump of canyon walls
raged into a city surprised..
Mass evacuations.. decisions right now..
demands of how to choose life..
Still many transfixed by the terrible beauty..
orange..billowing.. burning.. chaos...
Assessments reach both forward and back..
questions of rehearsals for future nows..
inadequacies of many decisions past..
Somehow in our heat today.. a continuing
blaze not yet contained..
new awareness..an urgent plea..
to experience life's beauty and
constricting pain.. already enclosed
in an expectant now...
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
Slowly she raised her tired eyes
and began to tally for me
my innumerable inadequacies.
I leaned back tired and shaken
ready to taste my bitter medicine.
There is no sadder statement said about me than the truth,
independence and self reliance present themselves as virtues
but i have come to realize they are the only things
that have led me to be as proud
and as lonely
as i truly am.
Is this all my fault?
Is it in fault,
that i wish i had followed sheep like and blissful
into the norm that breeds satisfaction
or at least some numb equivalent?
For all of you
I will smile,
Wave,
Glisten,
Grimace,
Weep,
and bare wide my yellowed teeth.
Because the bliss that we call freedom,
is just the most subconscious part of obedience.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
really? a bit of a stumble? no.
to speak of that she’s missing,
now that’s an accurate blow
yet an understatement begging
could you do better than that, mate?
listen, it’s a deep audible breathing
the inadequacies painfully adequate
visions maimed, blindly wandering
a kind of pretty something she sought
called for distraction from degrading thoughts
what once was a careful fancy plan
in a swift stroke, now it’s coming undone
her walls echoed the how’s and why’s
pouring the frustration in that thing she sought
yet it proved to be a more frustrating cry
sweet candies and spoiled foods all for naught
in those small pulses of validation she felt
longer vibrations of self-pity linger
praying ****** hopes of forgetting as she knelt
someday the kind she needs may He bring her
what she aims starts to decay
blisters and battles where her loyalty lay
drills and ceremonies and flying planes
remains untouched, but still aspired everyday
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
I left with very little, expecting a week or perhaps two in the city, quick cash and then home to the sand of my beaches and the touch of my bed. It has been exactly two weeks and I am starting to say that I live here. There's an exhilaration attached to the detachment of a one-way ticket, I am a thousand people a day while being none, I can walk away from conversations without feeling guilty, there is not one person who cares enough about me to bother with my affairs-it is absolute freedom. Yet there is a loneliness that hangs on the hinge of liberation...a traveler has the world in their heart. We cannot stop ourselves from stuffing our experiences inside, gluttons of the road with the horizon in our eyes. Sometimes, though, we lose sight of what we wanted all along and then begin to search for what we desire, which becomes blurred and tangled by time zones and climates and languages...our stomachs are always empty and our chests are always aching for the unknown. It can break a person. I was on the bus back from East Hampton when an older man asked me why I was crying:
"I don't know", I said, "I suppose I just realized that this city takes everything from you, and you must prove yourself to earn it back".
He told me what they all do:if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere
I turned back towards the window before asking, "when you came here, did you have nothing, too?"
The man nodded and smiled. Maybe he was lying, but he gave me 50 dollars and paid my cab fare. I hugged him goodbye and he wished me luck. I don't know how he knew I was completely broke with no way to get back to my apartment, but I cannot imagine the forty-block walk with three bags. There is a kindness in a fellow traveler, one more seasoned than we are, who will always understand what it is to be poor and hungry and tired. But we chose this life, I chose this life, when I stepped on the plane with no way back. I realized this as I was locked atop a rooftop in SoHo, watching the pink and blue of sunrise with champagne on my lips. It is okay to admit your inadequacies, to ask for help, as long as you appreciate the sheer genius of the universe. That, after all, is why this life calls to us.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
And when we argue and fight, all I know is love
When I'm not your priority, all I know is love
When you're smiling and I'm dialing, all I know is love
When you're crying and I'm fuming, all I know is love
Please don't teach my heart to hate
Even when this strong feeling begins to abate
I'll just hope time is on my side and love won't be late
All alone in my somber coldness, I'll have to wait
And when I don't fit the description of a perfect lover, all I know is love
And when my inadequacies are all you see, all I know is love
When there's another heart filling you up in the dark, all I know is love
When you don't have time to see me, all I know is love
Please don't teach my heart to hate
Even when this strong feeling begins to abate
I'll just hope time is on my side and love won't be late
All alone in my somber coldness, I'll have to wait
When I cannot be there to share the care and long stares, all I feel is love
When I cannot kiss you, other lips should bruise you and if that kiss does confuse you, all I still feel is love
Even when your youth leads you to selfishness and contains you in your pride, I'm proud to still love you
And when I cannot afford to purchase threads to keep you warm or jewels to decorate your glamour, My heart is still yours as a treasure...
Please don't teach my heart to hate
Even when this strong feeling begins to abate
I'll just hope time is on my side and love won't be late
All alone in my somber coldness, I'll have to wait
And when there's nothing left to give, I'll wish you happiness I cannot seed
And when my actions of affection are forgotten, may the fading picture fly to the stars, where the moon will manufacture a new chance
And when I am not the lover you dreamed of, I hope leaving you will pave the way for your true King's kingdom.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
What if the Earth stopped its long flight and finally stood still?
the gods controlling the universe, hiding in our footsteps, suddenly tired of our inadequacies and decided
to end this grand cosmic charade.
Coming out of Shadows
and out of foot steps . perception
torn asunder
and reality recognized as our own inept construct. When in truth perhaps, buy some vain hope,
those ideas invoices we held dear ,
like pin ****** a lighthouse is in the dark and vast ocean,
are found to be merely sparks in the wind,
buffeted and intangible
and the earth suddenly stops.
And the asteroid belt is too small.
and the combusting Sun fails.
And the most frightening possibility of all ?
Will foot steps fade into darkness?
will there be time to dig a final grave what to say last
goodbye?
And will we be seen as works in progress or graded as complete?
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
I am so cautious
and reckless at the same time.
I give little
pieces of myself to strangers
every day
swift glances
quick pauses
in which the other
person becomes
quickly informed of my
inadequacies.
I stutter. I have
so many words running
fast to the front of
my mind that
i can never quite
think of which
i want to vocalize
first.
i bite my lip to
stop the jumble
from overflowing.
i am afraid that i'm
a tower.
so tall and mighty
with power
until one brick
crumbles
and i become nothing
but debris.
so put together
yet falling apart
i am ever so tumultuous
with my aquarius
and emotional
with cancer
forever organizing the two
with my capricorn.
i am within my signs
and my signs are within me.
so i dive as far as i can go in my ocean
and i sit on this bed
and think of all the things i
left unsaid
and feel those words
pounding their way in my head
trying to burst through the dam.
there is a fist in my head
punching out my tears
and it is ruthless--
i am being abused from
the inside out.
i've lost count of the bruises
on the insides of my skin.
i can't quite make out the scars
from within.
but i've got russian skin
and it hides everything so
well
i am quite difficult to read
i've been told
and i find it impossible
to express these bruises
and scars
- i feel stuck -
unable to express
and unable to be understood.
in a glass box
pushing at the walls
begging the surrounding
strangers to understand
pleading with myself to
learn the skills of communication
quick before the crowd
disappears.
i am a patchwork of
nerves and anxiety.
i've got beauty sewn through
my veins
and a wall
sewn thickly around my heart.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC